by Ann Raina
Her good mood dimmed when she opened the door. She expected to see Marco Pisetti, but it was a cop she had not yet met. "Oh, hello, Officer…" She squinted to read the name tag. "Kessler."
"Yes, sorry, ma'am, to interrupt this early, but I was on my round, so…"
"Early? No, no, it's not a problem. I expected you." She let him step into the hall. He was about five foot nine and kept himself very straight to appear even taller. Kyra frowned. "I'm sorry, but I don't know if I should know you."
"No, ma'am, I'm pretty new in the district."
"Oh… And Captain Felesky is still hollering at everyone around?"
"Yes, ma'am, he is." Officer Kessler's smile widened. He was pleasant to look at. Thick blond hair, a neat short cut, an open face with a small moustache that fit his hair color. His uniform was freshly pressed and she would bet that the light blue colored glasses were polished. Maybe he was someone compensating for his lack of muscle with neatness.
"I thought so. And where's Pisetti? Taking care of his mom?"
"I think he does, ma'am."
"All right, then, if you want to check..."
"Yes, I would like to see the convict and have a few words with him if you allow." Kyra made a gesture and led him into the kitchen. The police officer stopped and tried to control his expression when he saw Julian sitting on the mattress with his right foot chained to the pillar and wearing only shirt and briefs. "As I can see you got everything under control, ma'am."
"Yes, I think, I do." She smiled pleasantly, non-telling. "If you excuse me for a moment? I'll be right back."
"Sure, ma'am."
Kyra walked through the hall, but ran upstairs for the telephone. Captain Felesky had retired three years ago, and that rookie did not know? And if Pisetti is off, he is with his girlfriend. His mother is long dead. Kyra knew the number of the nearest police station by heart and got the officer of the day. "I'm quite sure I've got an impostor at my house," she said in a hushed whisper and added a description. "He calls himself Kessler. Anyone by that name on your list?" She got the expected no as an answer. "I'll try to keep him here, but you better hurry if you want to catch him." The officer had taken down notes and promised to send a squad car immediately. She hung up, checked her appearance in the large bedroom mirror and took deep breaths. She was upset and somewhat frightened. Her cheeks were red with stress. Why would anyone try to get into my house under the pretense of being a cop?
She stepped down slowly, noiselessly. She heard whispers, but did not understand the words. The whisper was fast, urgent. Like someone knowing he does not have much time. Kyra cursed that she had left the kitchen, but calling from there would not have been the best idea, would it? Bolder and more confident, she stepped through the hall, put up a smile and met Kessler in the living room.
"I'm done here, ma'am," Kessler said politely and put his hat back on.
"Sure?" Kyra tried to sound casual. She had been a cop once so she could pretend to be at ease. "I mean, I could offer you a cup of coffee, if you like."
"That's very kind, but I really need to be on my way."
"I didn't see your car."
"No, I walked the few blocks. It's not that far from the station." He was at the door. "I'll see you next week."
"Yes, sure." Kyra closed the door behind him. "Damn it!" She hurried into the kitchen, good mood gone, anger back on the menu. "Who was he?"
Julian raised his brows. "Ah, a cop to check on me?"
"He wasn't. I already called the police."
"You think he was not a real officer?"
"I know he wasn't! They're searching for him right now."
"Wow. You get someone from the station that quick?"
She eyed him. She distrusted his cool demeanor and the all-so-innocent eyes. "There happen to be some nice side effects of once being one of them."
"You were a police officer?"
"That surprises you?"
"Oh, yes, it does."
"Can the crap, Julian!" She wanted to quarrel with him, but the squad car stopped in front of her house. She met with the officers, repeated her description and told them the direction the imposter had left. "He probably had a car somewhere close by."
"Thanks, Kyra, we'll take care of him."
They went and Kyra returned to the kitchen, still angry. She had the cane in her hand before she consciously made the decision to take it. "Who was he?"
"You're not using this thing on me, Kyra! No!"
"Wanna bet? Tell me the truth, Julian, and bet I'll smell a lie!"
Julian's eyes were huge. He sat on the mattress and swallowed hard. "Come on, Kyra, he was just an officer, who--"
"No!" She was close now and the cane made a swishing sound through the air. "You lie! Off with the shirt and pants! Now! Or the first hit goes right into your face!"
"Hell, no!" He hurried with the shirt. "Kyra, I don't know…"
"Who was he?" she growled. She forgot how strong he was. He could easily overwhelm her, but instead he threw the shirt on the ground, cursing under his breath. The cane hit his upper arm and he jerked back. "You talked with him for what? Five minutes? What did he say to you? What did you both talk about? On all fours!"
Julian turned and pulled down the briefs, expecting the hit to be immediate, but she waited a second until he relaxed and stroke the harder. He cried out. "Kyra, fuck it! No!" She hit him again. "Ouch!"
"Talk to me, Julian! I know he was an impostor." Another hit. "I know he wanted to see you and used the pretense. So, tell me why!"
He hesitated a moment too long and the cane found his butt again. She was not playing, but used all her strength. "Shit! Kyra! I will talk, but stop hitting me. I'm no good at talking while I scream."
"On your back." Kyra brought a pair of handcuffs from a drawer on the other side of the kitchen. He watched her in shocked surprise. "Put them on."
"What are they?"
"Darby style handcuffs. One locking place." Her adamant glare made him close them.
"They're damn tight."
"That's the idea. Put your arms above your head!"
He frowned. "What are you going--"
"Do it!" She had the cane ready and he so did not want her to use it on his front with his briefs still at his knees.
"All right. Don't get mad." He held the arms above his head and she locked the center with the chain at the pillar. "What's this about?"
She stood in front of him again, the cane in her right hand. She gripped it tight. One part of her was mad she had not been able to stall the false officer, the other part was mad at Julian who tried to lie. "Now you tell me about the visitor. Make it a good story. A believable one. Or…" She stroked the cane along his chest and ribs. "This will be a not so nice evening for you."
Julian swallowed. He broke into sweat and looked up to his hands caught in the tight cuffs. They pressed on the bone at his wrist and would be uncomfortable in a minute. "You've got some unfair methods of interrogation, really."
"I'm waiting."
Julian licked his lips. "Okay, I know him."
The cane moved along his right side from his armpit down to his hipbone. "Fine. Go on."
He swallowed again. "He's the friend who takes care of my apartment while I'm away."
"He could have just knocked on the door without pretending to be a cop. Bad story. Try another."
"No!" Julian tried to stop her, but the cane hit his thighs just below his private parts.
He paled rapidly and she hoped she had him beyond the point that he could lie.
"He is my friend! Believe me!"
She halted, cane ready, waiting for his explanation. He panted, swallowed, and the look he gave her was frightened, but also angry.
He tugged at the cuffs. "You know I could have kept you from chaining me like that!"
"Yes, and I could have told the officers to take you right away. I had reason enough!" Julian made a sound deep in his throat, a growl of helpless rage. "I give you choices, Julian, and yo
u better use them. I'm not stupid, and, yes, I knew the moment I asked the first question that this Kessler was no officer. So, the choices are you either tell me the truth or be back in prison before sunset."
He cringed on the mattress, pure discomfort on his face. "I already told you his name. It's Perry Wilson. He…he wanted money."
"Perry Wilson?" Kyra echoed, surprised.
"He's out on probation and his injunction says he's not allowed to see me. You know that."
The panting got worse and Kyra wondered if it was because of the uncomfortable situation or because he still tried to bluntly lie to her.
"No convict can be visited…"
"By other criminals still searched for or sentenced for a crime, including being on probation. I know that, thank you."
"See? He needed an excuse to get in."
"How did he know that you're here?"
"Your business…I told him what kind of business I'd work for."
"Oh. Glad you told me. How many of your…friends can be expected to stop by? Maybe as plumbers or postmen?"
"No one else." The cane swished and hit. "Honestly! No one!" He tore at the handcuffs, but the chain never budged. He was effectively trapped. "Fuck you, Kyra, it's enough! You got me! I told you the truth!"
"And what didn't you tell me?" He stared at her. "Five minutes of hushed whispers just to ask you for money?"
"Yes!"
"And you said?" The cane found its mark again.
"Shit! Stop it!" He struggled with his legs on the mattress, but there was no place he could hide from the cane. "I told him I had no money! I told him he'd have to wait until I'm out again."
She scrutinized his face. The cane had hurt, she knew, but had it been enough to bring forth the truth? She swirled the cane in her hand.
"Please, Kyra, no more."
She looked at him, puzzled suddenly. "What?"
"You got that look on your face. You want to strike again. But, please, could it be my back instead of my front?"
She looked down at the angry red welts on his thighs. "I still don't believe what you say."
"I never sold drugs," he said belligerently. "I never had anything to do with drugs. I was accused of that crime because I was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing else."
"How did you make money?"
"Some jobs." He avoided her stare, but the lifting of the cane brought back his attention. "Maybe not honest enough jobs, but nothing criminal either. Please, Kyra, stop hurting me! Please!"
Kyra lowered the cane and watched his face. His eyes pleaded and his whole demeanor begged her to stop. She could not ignore that. He was naked, vulnerable. He had given in without struggle, had allowed her to tether him though there was so much strength in him. Strength she had bound. Everything he had and represented appealed to her. She took a deep breath and turned away. The cane seemed too hard an object to hold. She returned it. She heard him inhale and let go of his breath, relieved. Kyra stood in the dim light of the kitchen, undecided what to do. The lower part of her body knew exactly what it wanted. It was a hard decision. Hard to stay and hard to leave. Maybe he had told the truth. Then, she knew, she had played it really rough on him. And if he lied? His story did not make that much sense to her, but, hey, it wasn't her life.
She turned when she heard him move his hands. The Darby style had been designed to not only shackle the prisoner, but leave him no way to turn his wrists. Once closed they were like heavy weights, reminding the prisoner he had no chance. Oliver had made them a present when she had told him of her acceptance as employer on the program. That told her much about his thoughts and about how he saw her. Now she had used them. She took the blindfold from the counter and walked over. Julian's eyes were wide again and he held his breath.
"And now?"
"Don't ask." She blindfolded him. He rested his head again and his lips were slightly parted. As if to kiss. He had a swing in his lips she found lovely. Her fingertips trailed his chest and he twitched before he knew she tickled him. She made the touch light and caressing in slow circles from his chest down his abs. The muscles… She wanted to touch them so intimately and restrained herself. His skin was warm and soft. Kyra's fingers took a stroll across the waves and down to where the pubic hair had been. Julian made a small sound. Maybe he would have urged her, but knew better. She smiled. It was funny that he did not know what to expect. Well, did she? "Do you want me to whip you some more?" she whispered close to his ear.
Julian's voice was strangled. "I don't think that I can stand more pain before the pleasure."
"And I might get carried away," she added in a seductive voice that made him flinch with restrained desire.
"Sweet goddess, you're getting a hang on this, aren't you?"
She laughed. "I've never been called a goddess."
"You can be for me."
Her fingers traced the blindfold, the top of his ear, its curve then, slowly, caressed his cheek. He parted his lips further, expecting more. Kyra did not know how far she was willing to go. Just teasing? Just letting him know that she could--would--do him then stop and let him swallow the disappointment? A part of her was genuinely intrigued by his appearance, but the other, maybe the more rational part of her, warned that he might try everything to get away. Even let her sleep with him if it meant to be rid of the shackles. "You're bluffing," she whispered in his ear and watched his face. He swallowed and his breathing sped up. "You're lying to me, saying what I want to hear and hoping that you can slip me a lie while I'm not aware of it."
"I know that you don't trust me." He swallowed and his Adam's apple jumped. "And I'm not asking anything. Keep me shackled if you want. I don't mind. But I want you. I'm pretty damn sure you noticed that. Without looking me in the eyes." She put her hand on what he meant, triggering a gasp and a grin. "Yeah, I knew you'd be a clever girl."
She squeezed, causing the grin to make way for a hurt grimace. Her voice was low with threat. "Never call me girl, Julian. I was tougher than the boys at school and I know how to handle you."
"I've seen that."
She let go. She was puzzled, all the more when she allowed the idea that she was aroused as well. It was strange and new and exciting. She teased him some more. He could not move his hands and he could not reach her. Neither for good nor for bad motives. And he did not even try. He just lay before her, panting, waiting, hoping. Kyra hesitated, the rational part tugging at her to retreat while she could. If she crossed the line and had sex with him, how could she pretend to punish him for drug abuse? How could she call him a liar and interrogate him if she slept with him? And there was more to it for she was his employer and had to take care of him, not abuse him. It was not right. Kyra took off the blindfold and moved away from him.
He blinked. "What's wrong?"
Kyra stood quickly and almost collided with the counter behind her. She was wet between her legs and the hurt expression in his beautiful brown eyes almost made her turn and go down on him. Almost. "Nothing's wrong." She made it sound arrogant, but she was not. And he was not fooled. "I just teased you and now I've got enough."
Julian flinched. "So it's back to just hurting me whenever you please?"
"I don't hurt you because it pleases me."
"You think you can play around and drop me, leave me like this?"
"I don't owe you anything," she growled, her eyes locked on his shaft. He was well endowed, no doubt about it. She had to force herself to look away.
"Don't play with me! I'm not a goddamned toy!" He struggled with the handcuffs. What had been pleasant and erotic before was a hindrance now. "Open them up! They hurt!"
"No dice, Julian. I won't put myself in your range. Not now."
"You bitch!" He struggled harder, but the cuffs were intertwined with the foot chain. He could not free himself, could not even change position. "Don't just stand and watch, damn it!"
"Lie still. You're only chafing your wrists." Kyra's mood had cooled. She wanted to go away. Leaving him like
that was no good idea, but getting closer to him was bad, too.
"You don't look like you fucking care!" He tugged one last time and gave up. He rested his head on the mattress, exhausted, frustrated as Kyra left the kitchen.
CHAPTER 8
A drink in the living room had been nice, but did nothing to calm her troubled mind. She put on slippers and crossed the yard to knock on her neighbor's door.
"You did what?" Oliver asked, his eyes wide when she explained the situation.
"I didn't do him."
"And you know that he's mad now, right?"
"I know. That's why I left." She put her hands in her jeans pockets and looked at the Chinese carpet in front of the bar. "He was yelling at me."
"You made a promise and didn't keep it."
Her head jerked up. "I made no promises at all!"
"Ah, you think that tying him down on the floor and petting him all over just leaves him with the impression you just wanted to see his assets? And that you're the Holy Mary now again? Don't gimme that crap!"
"I realized I was abusing him."
"It's the other way around," Oliver huffed. "You made a commitment, Kyra, you can't just walk away."
"He's a delinquent in my care. I have to make sure he pays for his crime and that doesn't include me going down on him."
"You overstepped that border already, Kyra, now bring it to an end."
"No."
Oliver took a deep breath and watched her turn stubborn and angry. "On what high moral grounds are you standing, Kyra? If he was willing--and I assume he was--then why didn't you go on?"
"He's not my toy. He works for me. I'm like…like a prison guard. I can't do him."